Innocence is a State of Mind
by NarcissisticObsessiveInsomniac
Summary: Tom Riddle's favorite part is the begging, the last moments of a persons life were their very soul is bared to him. But this green eyed boy did not beg, just resigned himself to his death. AU


_My nightmares always seem to fuel my stories . . . Flames accepted, criticism apprieciated, and just praising me is fine too. _

**Disclaimer:** I love writing **FAN**fiction that's read by other **FANS** and doesn't make me any money what so ever! Enjoy!

**Angel Killer**

Hand drill? No, maybe a kitchen knife, it was a classic after all. Ah, so many possibilities when slaughtering the innocent. I look over at my prey, a little runaway I had found on the street, he looked so lovely all tied up with tears cascading down his cheeks.

I smiled at the sight.

He had to only be about six or seven from the looks of him.

So innocent.

A sigh came out of my throat at this thought, but how long would that innocence last? Give or take a couple of years and hormones would kick in. Then it would not be ling before he gave up that innocence willingly.

No.

I would not let that happen, I would make sure he retained that innocence.

Shame that it would mean killing him.

I sighed again; he really was beautiful, that I had made sure of. I suppose it was for the personification of their purity that I always dressed my victims as angels before saving them from being contaminated.

The Angel Killer is what those journalistic idiots called me. Fitting, but the way they portrayed me made it seem like I was the boogeyman! Though I must say they did flatter me so I couldn't help but think to share their latest news on me with my captive audience.

Poor thing probably never got a chance to read the newspaper.

Grabbing the latest addition of the Daily Prophet, I stalked over to my little angel.

"Now won't you listen to this little one, it is a rather good story." I say while leaning in so my mouth is right beside the shell of his ear,

"_The Angel Killer has struck again. _

_Police reported Wednesday morning that the body of fourteen year old Penelope Clearwater, who has been missing since late October, was found in the First Church of God. She was reportedly found by Pastor Cornelius Fudge who had come early that morning to prepare for that evenings baptism ceremony. _

'_She was just floating in the baptizing water," said Fudge, 'I pray that whoever is doing this be brought to justice soon.' _

_Police have no suspects so far but Tom Marvolo Riddle, head of police, had this to say._

'_Who ever is responsible for these heinous crimes cannot stay under the radar forever, one false move and we'll have him.' _

_Clearwater's body is the third to be found this month and will now bring this serial killer kill count up to eighteen total."_

I smirked, my poor boy was shaking like a leaf.

No matter, that would end soon enough.

I turned my attention back to my work, humming Beethoven's first as I snapped on surgeon gloves and decided to go with the clique kitchen knife.

I smiled in what I thought to be a comforting way, now for my favorite part, the begging.

Advancing on him I bring my hand up, playfully skimming along his jaw until I reach the gag covering my angels mouth. His face show tear tracks but he is no longer crying. In fact he seems . . . resigned. I frown.

Well, this was new.

"So prepared to die are we?" I ask quizzically, raising an aristocratic eye brow. After moments of silence I narrow my eyes the knife slightly digging into his skin. He finally opens his mouth but not to beg.

"It's not as if I have anything to live for." Was his quiet and hoarse reply, his eyes staring directly into mine.

I could drown in those innocent orbs.

They were the greenest I'd ever seen, as if they were contacts. But that would be impossible seeing as how the boy still had a shoddy pair of wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

And so very expressive too, under the acceptance of his fate was fear, relief, and something much darker.

Something that reminded me far too much of myself and made me realize that maybe he wasn't so innocent after all.

"Well then, I'll just have to rectify that then." I raised my knife up and emerald eyes closed waiting for the knife to come down upon him and cut through-

The ropes binding his hands behind his back.

He blinked up at me questionably, eyeing the knife grasped in my hand with profound distrust. I slowly placed it on the ground before kicking it away and his posture relaxed slightly but stiffened again when my hands came up to cup his cheeks.

"What is your name child?" I ask, my voice surprising even me with the gentleness it held.

His eyes had grown wide and I could practically hear his rapidly beating pulse. Biting slightly on his lower lip he finally answered, decidedly having nothing to lose, "My uncle calls me boy and freak mostly, but I'm pretty sure my real name is Harry Potter. I'm eleven."

I had been unsure of what I was going to do until those words came out of his mouth and my suspicions were proven correct.

Child abuse.

I could feel my rage building up as memories of my pasts flew through my mind.

_No,_ I thought mentally shaking myself; I had more important matters to handle.

I picked up Harry, _my little angel_, eliciting a small cry from him as I exited my secret basement, plans rapidly forming in my head.

I would claim him as my illegitimate son from a one night stand, his mother having just passed on, I'd have to call in that favor from Malfoy to get Harry's fake birth certificate and papers but it could be done. Then there would be the matter of making sure nobody dug around to much but-

"W-Where are we going?" My attention was brought back to the bundle in my arms; Harry's big green eyes were wide and his arms had move around my neck to keep from falling. My eyes soften as they fell upon the sight and I followed my desire to kiss the forehead hidden by unruly hair.

Only a couple of minutes and the child was already making me go soft.

"We are going home Harry. Would you like that?" With my full attention on him he squirmed slightly.

"You won't take me back to the Dursley's?"

"Never." My arms tightened protectively around him from the pure dread I could hear in his voice. Our eyes connected and I was graced with a small smile.

I could not wait to cause more of them in the future.

"I'd like that." He whispered happily burrowing his head into the crook of my neck and I could feel the remnants of his smile on my neck. Then his face popped back up into my vision as his face showed pure curiosity. "What is your name?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

No, we were not innocents in body, but innocence is but a state of mind, and Harry had enough of it for both of us.


End file.
